RPlog:Bombing of Sobrik
The I2SD Aqua Monster the flag ship of Strike Force Viper has been brought back into service as its commander Fleet Admiral Lex Sando is brought out of retirement. The officers and crew for this particular mission were hand picked, and not ships usual compliment, but today’s mission is not usual. The Empire had been growing soft, and the Emperor had brought back Sando to help bring order to chaos. As the ship drops out of hyperspace in the Balmorra system, the Fleet Admiral calls the officers to the bridge to inform them of the mission at hand. Many rumours have swirled about what they are assigned to do, but they have thus far been left in the dark. Standing up from his seat the Fleet Admiral walks about a bit, his left leg, a Krayt Dragon bone making a horrible sound as it hits the deck plates, and the Admirals movement is a limp. He turns to the officers who have reported and states, "We are at the world of Balmorra, my homeworld. As some of you may know the city of Sobrik has been suffering from riots....these riots have consumed the city and the planetary government has done nothing, the Emperor personally reactivated my commission to solve this problem." Sando paces the deck and looks over each officer present. "If we were the Republic we would send in negotiators, the rioters would make ridiculous demands, and being the disorder bunch that we would be we would likely cave to some of those demands, or the rioters would become embolden and the disorder would spread, the whole planet would be engulfed in protests. We however are the Empire and the Emperor demands obedience from each of us. The city of Sobrik has rebelled, and if we do not stop them, this sort of anarchy will spread. It has therefore been decided that the city must be destroyed." Reaper Leader Marco Swarbeck is on the Flight Deck, hurriedly shrugging on his flight suit. The call went out for the TIE Avenger's to be on Ready Status, and their pilots on alert. Marco makes the task look easy, suited up and ready within minutes, helmet tucked under his arm, and waiting to see if the fighters will be scrambled. The elderly Admiral looks around with an almost sick grin on his face as he continues to report. "It was my initial intention to simply bombard Sobrik from orbit. A short surgical strike such as that would send a message through the Empire that disobedience will not be tolerated, and more over remind the Rebel scum that their current existence is merely a temporary situation that WE WILL RECTIFY!" The Admiral takes this talk seriously he hates the alien loving scum as much as anyone else, in fact he hates them much more. "However, it has been suggested that sending a squadron of fighters and bombers to take but the city will make this punishment all the more personal, and make sure that anyone who would darn think they know better than the Emperor that they will may for that arrogance. Furthermore such an attack will provide good practice for the Starfighter Corps. As such the elements of the Starfighter Corps on this vessel are hereby by ordered by myself Fleet Admiral Lex Sando, Commanding Officer of Strike Force Viper, serving under the personal direction of the Emperor himself, to bombard the city of Sobrik on the surface of Balmorra until every building is destroyed, and every trace of sentient life is wiped from the face of the city. They have turned their backs on the New Order, and the as such we are turning our backs on them." One of the pilots, a young Corellian man of some odd 23 years or so, is already geared up and awaiting the orders, orders that he knows will bring nothing but glory to the Empire and the Emperor himself. Like Marco, he too gets geared up quickly, the black flight suit and life support vest put on in a matter of minutes. Once done he rushes towards the TIE he'll be flying. Marco nods to the Corellian man, approaching him. "Reaper, you'll be flying my wing, so just stay close and we'll get through this just fine." He turns to the others and nods to them. "That goes for all of you. Stay with your wingman, follow your training and we'll get through this just fine." A smile forms as the scramble order comes, and he turns again to address the group. "Reapers!" He bellows. "It's show time!" He jogs the short distance to his craft and climbs the ladder. The Fleet Admiral sends a message over the communications to the flight deck, "Because the city has been overrun by rioters, it is possible that you might encounter resistance in the form of anti-space craft fire. This should be nothing you can't handle but this is as much of a test for you as it is a mission to suppress the rioters. If some of you die the rest of you will fight better and the unit as a whole will improve in quality, however, this ship will endeavour to provide some cover fire for your operation. Good luck, and give those fragging scum some Hell." With the speech over, the younger pilot has time to mull over both the Admiral's words as well as Macro's orders although that's short-lived; with a mission set before them it's fairly important they move quickly, not just while in their TIEs but even now as they prepare to launch and meet the enemy of the Empire. "Yes, sir," he replies even as the commander himself jogs off ahead, leaving him to do the same. His fighter's approached and climbed into, the vessel already started to be powered up by the ground crew, leaving very little for him to do himself during pre-flight. Marco settles the flight helmet over his head, and as the black mask envelopes his head, the sensor and ship data begin to pour into his field of vision. He keys his comm. "Reapers, commcheck" He begins the start-up sequence and waits for the rest of the squadron to do the same and check in. "Comms operational, Reaper Leader..." Reaper Two calls out after his helmet's on, obscuring his identity, rendering him just another servant to the Will of the Emperor opposed to being an individual being. That being the last thing they need to do for pre-flight checks, he falls quiet and waits for the order to launch to be given. For thirty years, Curio Teel has followed the same routine each morning: unlock the door, unseal the credstick readers, boot up the merchandise displays, and turn on the open sign outside the electronics repair shop his family has run for a century. For thirty years, he has toiled with a spanner and a bucket of grease, keeping his clients' everyday conveniences in order for a pittance and a tip of the cap. He has no expensive shop-tech, no advertising, not even a sign over the door. Curio Teel has only one decaying utility droid and his wife, who keeps the books. He doesn't aspire to greatness; for Curio, enjoying life is as simple as that morning checklist and a walk in the park after closing. A man of this simplicity does not understand why he is caught up in this turmoil. For the past several weeks, Curio Teel has not booted up his displays, unsealed his credstick machines, or turned on his open sign. For three weeks now he hasn't even unlocked the door. Curio sits alone, on a bench, at the top of a hill overlooking the park where he's walked each night for thirty years. He ponders these decades, and watches the chaos beneath him. Sobrik has come to life, and the park overflows with protesters carrying signs that say things like, "Down with the tyrants!" and "Free the Galaxy - Free Your Minds." Curio sighs, leaning his head against a tree behind the bench. Surely these people must know that their cries will go unanswered. Nothing will come of this madness. He's seen Republics, and Empires, and madmen called "Worldlords who wore funny hats and banned sugar." He's seen all manner of governments come and go, with varying degrees of fanfare or firepower. And the only difference Curio Teel has noticed between them was what happened to the people who made noise. Marco listens as the remaining Reapers check in, and then switches his comm to fleet frequency. "Roger, Aqua. Reapers are launching." He flips back to squadron comm. "All right Reapers, stay close to your wingman but don't bunch up... watch for anti-aircraft fire. Our first priority is the Air Defences. With those down, we'll have free reign" He nudges his flight stick and rises into the air, kicking in the thrust and rocketing out of the Hangar Bay and into space. "Roger. Will be sure to keep defensive fire where it's needed." The pilot begins the launch procedure and soon the TIE lifts off, the landing gear rising from the deck in a slight hover. The crew makes sure everything's cleared before giving the okay and Reaper Two is good to go. As the ships start to move off Reaper Two's own ship begins to be manoeuvred out the landing hatch, making sure to stay in formation at all times. Marco glances at the formation of his squadron. Not bad for a group of mostly fresh academy grads. "Reaper 7, loosen up a bit, Reaper 11, your coming on a bit to fast." After receiving confirmations and watching the fighters slide back into almost perfect position, Marco puts his attention to his flight stick. The craft starts to shudder and shake as he enters atmosphere, and he fights to keep it steady and on course. "Watch the crosswinds, Reapers." Marco descends into the atmosphere and checks his screen that all his people have made it through. "Alright Reapers, eyes front." He changes his sensor screen to a scan of the target area. "I don't see much for defences; I have a strange reading that might be an AA vehicle, so keep your eyes peeled." As he barrels closer, the AA "turret" takes a few pot-shots, which are dodged easily with a flick of the flight stick to one side. Pulling a wide, vertical 180, he jumps above the line of fire, and as soon as the turret is in the crosshairs, a button press sends 4 bolts of energy into the slipshod defence. So say it explodes is somewhat of an overstatement. Vaporized would be more accurate. The elderly man who has ordered this assault is watching the sensor scans closely, eagerly concerned with how the Starfighters are doing. After all he is going to need some good permanent pilots for Strike Force Viper and some of these men might have what it takes. As he sees one of the makeshift turrets taken down the Fleet Admiral responds on their communications frequency, "Nice firing Reaper 1. We are reading at least 3 other turrets like that one in the city." The communications from Command has Reaper 2's pilot feeling a bit more at ease, the flight through atmosphere having done well in causing the rookie quite a bit of distress thanks to being jostled so badly. "I think I got one in my sights, Reaper 1. I'm firing..." With a bit of a muttered prayer, the Core World native lines up a shot, one that'll hopefully hit home, and he depresses the trigger, using his lasers instead of the earth-shattering munitions his fighter's packing, saving those for more optimal targets. Marco looks down as the sensor data from the Cap ship in space pours over his screen. "Read you, Aqua" He communicates over the Fleet frequency, and then goes to Squadron channel. "4, Take 5 and 6 to North turret. 7, you, 8, and 9 take the south... 10 group, begin strafing runs in this sector. 2 and 3, you two are coming with me for the western turret." He waits a moment for confirmations and then carves a sharp curve as he breaks off west, the Northbound and Southbound groups doing similarly. 2's shooting displays on his sensor screen. "Nice shooting, 2... Think you can tag our next turret?" Reaper 10, 11, and 12 follow the orders of Reaper 1 and begin strafing runs in the sector. They know what they are here for, like it or not the total destruction of the city is their goal. As the three approach a large suspension bridge they encounter protesters fleeing for their lives from one side trying to get to relative safety found on the other. Their complaints about the empire are a thing of the past as their handbills and makeshift signs have been dropped behind them as they flee. The three Reapers approach in a coordinated fashion with Reaper 10 bombing one end of the bridge and Reaper 12 bombing the other end, tearing away the escape on either side for thousands of fleeing people, both protesters and innocents alike. Reaper 11 has gotten his speed under control from when his leader chastised him earlier his approach to the bridge is slow and calculated. As he approaches he launches his weapons throughout the centre of the bridge, the final effect causing the bridge to collapse completely killing all the thousands who sought refuge on it. The thrill of the moment has the kid all excited and the fact that he managed to get a pretty damn good hit on the turret he aimed for has Raptor 2 yelping in celebration. "That's what we're talking about," comes the shout over the comms before he can stop himself and the man blushes due to his exuberance. Coughing, it takes a bit before he can compose himself but it doesn't truly take any length of time for him to be back to business. "I sure can try, Reaper Leader." The other target Marco called out to him is next on his mental list of 'things we need to blow the heck up' and he manoeuvres his ship, getting it in his line of sight before yet again firing. Marco looks down at his screen as a warning flashes. Reaper 8 flashes as a "KIA" marker after being vaped by a lucky shot from a turret that was moments later slagged by his mates. Marco grimaces, not at the loss of the pilot and craft, but at the fact that his first combat sortie would not be a perfect run. His group approaches the far turret as the other remaining one is ignited by laser cannon fire. Marco keys his comm as the group approaches the last turret. "All yours 2" While many of their other comrades have a certain reluctance at this assignment, for whatever reason Reapers 10, 11, 12 take to this job without any reservations that can be seen in their actions. Perhaps they are a greatly loyal, perhaps they have had family who have died at the hands of rebels and they no longer no the difference between the enemy and simple protesters, or perhaps they agree with the Fleet Admiral that the destruction of this city is vital for the survival of the Empire, in spite of the targets being Imperial citizens. Changing formations after the destruction of the bridge, they turn back to take a pass at the city itself and encounter a line of tenements, professional offices, and industrial thingamajigs. The fighters spin around and position themselves at 120 degree angles from each other and establish a firing arc in the centre of the space shared between them. They fire their weapons and begin to fly in a circle with each fighter looking to move in position to where the next one in line was. Be the time their circle of death has been completed the neighbour they target is nothing but rubble, if anything is alive within it, it won't be for long. With the increasing defences on the city's side, Reaper 2 finds himself able to breathe a bit more easily, the fact that he just might get out of this alive making him quite a bit more comfortable even in the face of what it is they were sent here to do. "Roger, Leader..." With the confidence of his two previous successes having swelled his head a bit, he pulls ahead despite the fact that the turret has yet been rendered inoperable, whooping and hollering into the comms as he lets loose with another volley of weapons fire towards what just might be the last defence they have. Marco keys his comm. "Ok Reapers, we own the skies. Converge at centre point and break by pair. 7, you're with me and 2. Weapons free, use missiles if you have to, but try to be frugal with them." He carves another sharp arc as he heads towards the centre of the city, glancing down at his screen as it shows incoming comm traffic on the civilian frequency. He opens the frequency in time to hear the broadcaster mid-sentence. "...is madness! We are Imperial Citizens! By what authority do you come here and attack us!" The broadcaster is almost panicking; Marco's counter is with a dispassionate voice. "We are here under the command of Fleet Admiral Lex Sando... your complaints will have to be fielded with him, Balmorra. Reaper Lead out." He punches the command to kill the frequency. As he watches the destruction of Sobrik from his sensor display, Lex Sando laughs slightly. With a sick grin on his face the aged leader stand up and limps around the bridge, unnerving his crew who are still not use to the sound of a Krayt Dragon bone one the deck plating as the cripple Fleet Admiral walks around. Stopping near his Executive Officer for this mission, a man he seems to remember serving with before, the Admiral continues to laugh and asks, "So what exactly is the salary of a Fleet Admiral these days, I have been retired for a decade now....and it seems that Reaper 11 just blew up my stock broker so I have a feeling my pension is not secure." While most any other man would have worried about these things before levelling a city Lex Sando does not really care, like the tale of the old mariner Admiral Sando must get his whale. Curio Teel has made it a point to avoid political people. His younger years were characterized by the pursuit of glory by other parties, people who claimed to speak for him casually declaring the inferiority of some other person who had once claimed to speak for him. The shackles of oppression are shed so that some other oppressor can pretend to be your messiah for a time, and the cycle continues. This is galactic life- and death. Resigned to the inevitable conclusion of his people's story, Curio Teel begins to connect the slurs and slogans in the park with the lights and shadows in the sky. Even as the first shots begin to rain down upon the malcontents, Curio stands from his bench for a walk. He walks alongside the park, past playgrounds and picnic tables, to the dead end street that will trap so many terrified people. And, leaning on a wall, he watches for a moment, as the Reaper himself seems to descend from the heavens. One angry protester shouts at the craft, thrusting a poster that reads, "Stop the Imperial Death Machine." Others cheer the turret gunners, chanting various pieces about destroying their oppressors. The irony of it sank in as Curio Teel lit a smoke. He couldn't help but chuckle as he reached for his keys. Wide eyes of children peek out of windows, parents huddling with them in their homes which offer scant little protection from bombardment such as the Empire is capable of. Some people know the end is nigh, and they meet it on their feet in the streets, while others are just terrified, and in tears. Some couples, who have been married for decades, lie in their beds, waiting for the end. All sentients die that is the grim reality of the universe. Life... ends. Today, it is ending for a lot of people who never saw it coming. In particular one young mother who has been married less than a year, and who has her one month child in her arms... stands in the front window of her home, tears streaming down her face. She watched her husband leave this morning, carrying a protest sign, and she knows what's coming as explosions start to rock the city from the AA destruction. "Shhh, it'll be alright Laur..." she tells her baby girl who is getting fussy, "Daddy'll be home soon." When the end comes, what is left to do but lie to children about it? Marco coordinates the convergence and split, picking up an extra wingman before swooping in to line up strafing runs on critical infrastructure. He fires on power plants and fabrication plants, using the scanners to find buildings that are less populated, or even empty, but still critical. It's easy to carry out the orders as it's easy to be removed from such tragedy. There's no way faces can be seen, no way to really even see the destruction unless they pass over a hit area once the damage is done. It probably wouldn't even really matter Reaper 2 as he's too into the moment, too wrapped up into fantasies of rewards and accolades and of women on his arms who beg him to tell them all about how he rained fire upon the city. It's only because of his training that he is able to hit anything, his missiles managing to find buildings and roads and people to hit despite how he isn't quite with the others, mentally speaking. Hearing the communications chatter that the Reapers picked up from the planet, the Fleet Admiral turns to the Executive Officer and orders him to open hailing frequencies with the planetary government. "This is Fleet Admiral Lex Sando of Strike Force Viper. Your failure to suppress the violence that had engulfed the city of Sobrik is what necessitated the Emperor ordering the destruction of the city. Dissent my dear Governor is like a cancer which will spread like a plague if it is not removed. Be thankful that we are only destroying the one city instead of your entire world. The separatist sentiment on Balmorra has been sickening me for years and your failure to clean up your own mess makes me almost ashamed to call this world home. I trust you will be more careful with how you govern what is left of it." Before the Governor has a chance to respond the Admiral orders the signal cut, after all he is the only one whose opinion on that matter actually matters. Marco continues to choose targets of opportunity, infrastructure and industry, places where there aren't too many people. He even let's a concussion missile off which streaks at a water treatment plant and slams into the side of a massive tank, causing water to spill out into the streets. He keeps a close eye on his sensor screen and its reports on the other pilots. With the government and industrial areas being taken care of, Reaper 2 chooses a residential area to target, his TIE along with two others flying over houses and schools and even a park where children are being herded away by concerned parents and other form of care-givers. The sight causes him to sombre but he doesn't question their orders, the fact that they were tasked with this important task helping ease the slight sting of committing will undoubtedly be seen as crimes against the people by survivors and the news people alike. Two missiles are shot, one heading for a play area and another towards a small wooded area that had been added as an ecological project of no small importance. Balls of fire mark the impact, the explosions killing all within their range, flora and fauna, animal and the beings who occupied the park. If anyone survived it'll be a miracle. Looking at his sensors and seeing that the destruction has taken enough a toll on the city of for his current purposes, Fleet Admiral Lex Sando opens up the channel with the Reapers. "Swarbeck you may recall your force to the ship. The Reapers have done and excellent job and I don't think there will be a soul in galaxy that could now say with a straight face, don't fear the reapers." Sando pulls up a display on his screen which runs through the individual performances of all 12 members of the force, and smiling Sando adds to the chatter, "You were each being tested with this assignment and I a pleased to report that 11 of you passed. My condolences about Reaper 8, but I am afraid he was simply not good enough to fight for the Emperor. I am sure you will perform even better once you get a competent replacement." Sando has no sympathy for failure and his message of condolence is harsh and inappropriate. Heading towards the hangar bay Sando says on last thing, "I will see you all when you return to the Aqua Monster, Fleet Admiral Sando out." Marco's reply is quick. "Yes Sir, Thank you sir." He switches to Squadron channel. "You hear that, Reapers? You're now official fighter pilots. Form up on me and let's get back to base." This time his turn is a wide bank up towards the stars, followed closely by his squadron mates, and he doesn't look back towards the surface, busying himself with exiting the atmosphere and then docking procedures. "Yes, sir." With the adrenaline now leaving him, Reaper 2 finds himself fighting exhaustion, making it a very good thing no one has decided to request a victory lap or two around the rubble-filled city as he'd probably fall asleep half way through it. Pulling up behind Reaper Leader, he allows his commander to take the lead, happy to be able to be quiet and such for now. Marco performs the docking manoeuvre with practiced precision, and once landed he pops the hatch and equalizes pressure, working to unlatch his helmet as he watches his sensor screen to make sure the surviving Reaper's land properly. The TIE Reaper 2 pilots lands, looking none the worse for wear. The hydraulics hiss as the canopy rises and it isn't long before the exhausted-yet-utterly-pleased pilot emerges. The crew's allowed to conduct the post-flight checks and everything which leaves him freed up for debriefing, a good meal and a long sleep. As the various members of the Reaper's make it back into the hanger and out of their TIEs, the crippled Fleet Admiral limps around smiling, offering statements of congratulations and shaking the hands of the surviving pilots. As the last of the 11 make it into the hanger, the bay's doors close and the last of the pilot come out. The Fleet Admiral gathers the pilots all together and states, "I want to thank you all for your service on behalf of the Empire. It is because of officers like you that we continue to maintain order in the galaxy in spite of the threat we face with the New Republic, the New Sith Order, and every other group of new idiot out there." The Fleet Admiral pauses for a moment and clicks one his communications device, "This is Fleet Admiral Sando to the Bridge. Commence firing all turbolasers at what is left of Sobrik; wipe the city from the face of the universe." He turns back to the pilots he set down to bomb the city before and smiles, as if he order to fire turbolasers was insignificant. From the rubble of one of the destroyed buildings comes a young boy and his sister. They're both filthy with ash and dirt, and the sister has a skinned knee, but the boy is adamant about helping her. Helping to pull her clear, he pauses, watching the fighters blast back into space and disappear past the cloud cover. "I think they're leaving, Rianna." Riana cranes her neck and follows his gaze. "The bad men are leaving?" The boy nods. "Yup, they sure are." He reaches out a hand. "C'mon, let's go find Mom." The little girl continues to watch the fighters leaving, and then turns to the boy and nods. "Ok!" She follows, wincing and letting loose an "Owie!" as the step aggravates her injured knee and she stumbles. The boy looks down at her. "C'mon! We have to find mom!" Rianna whimpers. "But my knee, it hurts!" She protests. Her brother sighs, and then moves towards her. "Come on, up you go!" He reaches down and picks her up in his arms. Rianna wraps her arms around her brother as the two begin to move again down the street. The brother grins. "You just wanted me to carry you, huh?" The girl giggles. "Yeah..." She admits sheepishly. The boy chuckles. "Yeah, I knew it." He continues to carry her down the street. He speaks again. "I saw one of those things up close once, ya know?" The girl looks surprised. "Nu uh! Really?" The boy nods. "I sure did. There was a bunch of them at the spaceport undergoing repairs, and Mister Masari let me see one, even let me sit in the cockpit!" Rianna eats it up. "Really!?!? Wow!" The boy nods. "Yup! He said I'd make a good pilot someday, said I could be an ace! That's what I'm gonna be when I grow up. I'm gonna be the best fighter pilot in the galaxy! What do you think of /that/, Huh?" Rianna doesn't answer. The boy pauses and looks at her, her own face again pointed skyward. "Rianna?" Rianna cocks her head. "I see a light..." The boy stops. "Huh?" Rianna points towards the clouds. "A light. Look." The boy lets her down and turns to face skyward. "Huh. What do you suppose that..." The question is never finished... Bombing of Sobrik